


Kinktober 2020

by TR33G1RL



Category: One Piece
Genre: Blood, Choking, Dirty Talk, Eating out, F/F, F/M, Facials, Femdom, Formalwear, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Kinktober, Lingerie, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Riding, Tattoos, Vampires, thigh riding, thigh-fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TR33G1RL/pseuds/TR33G1RL
Summary: My attempt on the Kinktober 2020 challenge. I don't have any set list, I'll just go with whatever prompt strikes my fancy.Day 10: Prompt: Choking | Ship: Rob Lucci/KakuDay 11: Prompt: Dirty Talk | Ship: Eustass Kid/Killer/X Drake/Basil Hawkins/Scratchmen ApooDay 12: Prompt: Tattoos | Ship: Eustass Kid/Trafalgar D. Water Law/Basil HawkinsDay 13: Prompt: Formalwear | Ship: Dracule Mihawk/Benn BeckmanDay 14: Prompt: Riding | Ship: Charlotte Linlin/KaidoDay 15: Prompt: Lingerie | Ship: Jewelry Bonney/Vinsmoke ReijuDay 16: Prompt: Facial | Ship: Cavendish/Bartolomeo
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Buggy, Bartolomeo/Cavendish (One Piece), Basil Hawkins/Trafalgar D. Water Law, Benn Beckman/Dracule Mihawk, Charlotte "Big-Mom" LinLin/Kaido, Crocodile/Donquixote Doflamingo, Eustass Kid/Killer/X Drake/Basil Hawkins/Scratchmen Apoo, Eustass Kid/Trafalgar D. Water Law/Basil Hawkins, Eustass Kid/Vinsmoke Sanji, Hina/Smoker (One Piece), Jewelry Bonney/Nojiko, Kaku/Rob Lucci, Killer/Penguin/Shachi (One Piece), Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji, Silvers Rayleigh/Shakky, Vinsmoke Reiju/Jewelry Bonney
Comments: 69
Kudos: 221





	1. Prompt: Handjob | Ship: Shanks/Buggy

**Author's Note:**

> Are there more emotions than I thought there would be? Maybe, but I really like where it went.

Buggy scowls as he watches Shanks grin at him from across the other side of  _ Buggy's own ship. _ When Shanks lifts his hand to wave at his nakama-turned-rival, Buggy's scowl only grows. Even from across the other side of the ship, Buggy can see that Shanks still has Buggy's detached hand in his too-strong grip. Trying to wriggle his fingers free from the other captain's grasp proves pointless as Shanks just squeezes tighter, grins wider, and raises Buggy's hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of the clown's gloved hand. Around the Red-Hair, Shanks' crew laughs and cheers, and Buggy finds his anger red in his cheeks when he sees that even his own crew begins to join in the fun.

Shanks laughs as well, tossing his head back as the sound bursts from his lips like fireworks. The chorus of laughter continues to crescendo until, in a sudden moment, Shanks hears all raucous laughter besides his own come to a sudden silence. There's not even a moment for Shanks to look around for the cause of the upset before he feels a familiar gloved hand grab onto his upper arm and drag him away from the party. As he lets himself be dragged away by a fuming Buggy, he begins laughing again, encouraging both of the crews to begin laughing again. As the party begins in full force once again, Shanks shoots his first mate a sly wink. Benn Beckman rolls his eyes as he lifts his tankard to his lips - his captain is far too reckless, but it always seems to work out for him. Far be it from Benn to stop his captain from trying to flirt with his malevolent clown of a childhood best friend and rival.

The door slams shut behind Buggy and Shanks, and the redhead’s laughter continues as Buggy locks the door behind them. When the shichibukai whips around to look at Shanks, the other pirate is beaming at him, the gleam in his eyes as sharp and as wicked as you please. “What the hell are you doing?!” Buggy hollars as he storms towards Shanks, using his single attached hand to roughly shove the taller man against the wall.

Grin never fading, Shanks lets his back hit the wall, not even flinching as Buggy gets in his face once again. “What?” Shanks responds with a false innocence that doesn’t touch even the edges of Shanks’ cunning smile. “Is it wrong to want to hold my favorite person  _ ever’s  _ hand?” 

The words are a tease, but they still make Buggy’s cheeks flush a strawberry-lemonade hue. “Fucking- Shut up, Red Hair!” He bites out, words like barbed wire as he crosses his arms, glaring at the cocky expression on Shanks’ face. Huffing, Buggy takes a step back from their very close proximity. The air is stifling between them (it’s not because Buggy can feel Shanks’ body heat, a searing warmth that draws him near) and it’s making it hard to breath (it’s not because the way Shanks looks at him - like Buggy holds the universe between his fingers and the lines on his palm - and takes his breath away). “Why do you insist on doing stupid things like this?” Buggy’s voice is less of a feral snarl now, more of a tired accusation without any direct allegations.

Shanks’ response of a chuckle sounds altogether different than his usual laughter. The sound is low and deep and sweet as mead, and it makes Buggy shiver. “Oh, Buggy,” he rumbles, voice low as the purr of a large predator of a feline, “I think you know why.” He lifts his hand, still entwined with Buggy’s, to his mouth. Even through the fabric of his gloves, Buggy can feel the way that Shanks’ kiss warms and lingers and sears into him.

Painted lips pursing at the sight, Buggy nods his head a single time. “Yeah, I guess I do, don’t I?” He uncrosses his arms as he lets his chokingly tight grip on Shanks’ hand relax a bit, no longer aiming to make Shanks uncomfortable enough to drop his hold. As if Shanks would ever let go anyway; he always holds tight to what he wants. “Well, fuck it, I guess.”

Looking up, Shanks’ electrifying eyes meet Buggy’s, and the slight confusion Buggy finds brings a crooked smirk to his face. He gently rubs his thumb over the back of Shank’s hand, brushing the pad of his fingers over Shanks’ knuckles. Shanks’ confusion is diluted, still there but blended with a greater amount of fondness and affection and love. “Just shut up and keep going, yeah?” Buggy orders as he detaches his other hand.

Shanks is unsure of what the clown is doing, but when he feels the movement of Buggy’s knuckles softly shifting against his lips, Shanks finds himself not caring and holds tight to Buggy’s hand as he presses a lingering kiss to the back of each finger and each knuckle. He savors the warmth of the feeling, the scent of gunpowder that lingers on the fabric, as his eyes follow Buggy’s gaze. So focused on Buggy’s penetrating stare, he doesn’t even notice that Buggy’s other hand has drifted to hover over Shanks’ hip.

The sudden hitch in Shanks’ breath as he feels the fingers of Buggy’s other hand graze over Shanks’ bare stomach. His grin growing, Buggy watches Shanks’ eyes go wide and feels the muscles of the emperor’s abdomen tense under his touch. “What?” Buggy asks with a scoff, “Didn’t you hear what I said, Red-Hair? Just stay quiet and keep going.”

Forgetting what he’s doing for a moment, Shanks lets out a soft exhale as he feels Buggy’s hand trace the lines of his muscles down to the hem of Shanks’ pants. His eyes remain locked on Buggy’s as he watches Buggy as Buggy watches him. To his surprise, he can see the flush on Buggy’s cheeks darken even further as the shorter captain shifts slightly, his eyes drawn to the way his own hand moves over Shanks’ skin. It almost seems like Buggy is interested. 

The thought makes Shanks lips part in a soundless sigh before he presses his lips to Buggy’s hand again, shifting his own fingers so he can try to peel the silky fabric off. His own actions draw a shaky sigh from Buggy, and Shanks smiles against Buggy’s bare wrist. Whatever game Buggy’s playing, Shanks is more than happy to play along.

Buggy just rolls his eyes at Shanks’ too-pleased grin as he tries to smother one of his own. His hand, deft and clever from years of practice, is teasingly slow as he undoes the button and zipper, feeling the way Shanks twitches at the feeling of Buggy’s hand so close to where he wants it.

The picking up of Shanks’ heavy breathing is the loudest sound in the room as Buggy carefully works Shanks’ pants down just enough to catch on Shanks’ thighs. He ‘accidentally’ brushes his hand over the hardening length hidden by the dark fabric of Shanks’ underwear, and Buggy has to admit, he greatly enjoys the small stutter of a swear the redhead lets out. His red smile grows as he teasingly repeats the action, ghosting his knuckles over Shanks’ cock and making the other captain twitch. 

“F-Fuck, Buggy,” Shanks’ groans against Buggy’s fingers as he glances down to see Buggy’s hand grope the bulge in his underwear. He moans as clever, clever fingers reach up to hook onto the hem of the constraining fabric, slowly pulling them down to join Shanks’ pants. “Shit, Buggy, please can you-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buggy cuts him off, and the low rasp in his voice makes a shiver run down Shanks’ spine. “I already know what you need, just shut up and let me do it.”

Shanks’ smiles into each hot, loving kiss he presses to Buggy’s palm. “Thank you,” he murmurs between kisses, “God, thank you. Thank you, you always know, Buggy. Thank you.” His words cut off in a shaky sigh as he feels Buggy’s hand wrap around his cock, the texture of Buggy’s glove making Shanks’ toes curl and his back arch.

It’s a slow rhythm at first, Buggy’s hand moving leisurely towards the tip before sliding down towards the base again. The way the not-enough rhythm makes the emperor shake and pant has Buggy grinning as he continues the easy movements. Shanks’ heated breath and kisses are certainly having an effect on Buggy, making his own body warm and hot and more, but right now, he doesn’t care.

The feel of Shanks’ cock, heavy and hot and twitching in Buggy’s grip, is an amazing feeling, and Buggy revels in it as he rubs his palm over the tip. He smears the precum down Shanks’ shaft as a choked swear blooms on the redhead’s lips. Shanks’ hips twitch, and Buggy internally preens because he can tell that Shanks’ body is reacting so strongly because it’s Buggy that’s performing these lewd actions on 

him.

Suddenly, Buggy’s grip tightens and his pace picks up, and Shanks’ eyes go wide, locking on Buggy’s as the shichibukai grins at him. Unable to resist his own temptation, Shanks’ hips cant forward, pushing into Buggy’s grip with each thrust. “Sh-i-it, Buggy,” he pants, hips bucking into the lovely feeling of Buggy’s silk glove around his cock, so warm and smooth and  _ tight. _ “S-So fuckin’ good, I… I-!” His voice cuts off in a cry so loud that Buggy shoves his fingers into Shanks’ mouth to muffle the sound of it. The second Buggy’s fingers enter his mouth, Shanks is sucking and licking at them, drool dripping from his lips.

“I know, Shanks,” Buggy rumbles soothingly as his thumb rubs circles over the red, leaking tip of Shanks’ cock before continuing the fast, tight strokes that have Shanks’ head spinning and his heart pounding as the heat in his gut boils. “I told you, I know what you need. Just go on and cum for me, don’t overthink it. It’s not too hard to figure out, and I just want to help you. So I’m going to count down from five, and you’re going to cum. Got it, Shanks?” Buggy orders, voice so sweet for the words he’s saying.

Tongue still wrapping and swirling around Buggy’s fingers, Shanks nods, dazed as he looks into Buggy’s eyes. He doesn’t even bother saying another word, just waiting for Buggy’s signal.

“Good,” Buggy purrs, smiling at Shanks in a way that makes the Red-Hair’s heart as warm as his loins. “Alright, I’m going to start now.” Buggy’s strokes are rough, steady but rough and hard and tight and  _ perfectly overwhelming in every single way, _ as he begins his countdown. “Five.”

Shanks feels his body twitching, hips pushing into Buggy’s grip as he feels his body’s boiling point. His mind is spinning and he feels like he could fall into nothing or explode into stardust at any moment.

“Four,” Buggy continues, smiling as he watches Shanks’ stomach and abdomen muscles twitch with each thrust of Shanks’ cock into the tight sheath of Buggy’s hand. His glove is slick with precum, but he doesn’t mind at all.

Shanks doesn’t think he can even form words at this point, and he’s incredibly grateful for the fingers in his mouth that give him a reason not to moan out the word ‘love’ and call into the fact that he’s not sure where he and Buggy lie. “Three.” The word draws a keen from Shanks as he feels Buggy’s palm against the base of his cock again. Buggy always knows what Shanks needs, he always does, always, so perfect so good, Buggy is-

“Two… And one.”

Spine pulling taut like a bow and eyes hazily locked on Buggy’s, Shanks will be thankful later that the fingers in his mouth muffle out his cry of ‘Love you-!’ as his climax slams into him like a ships’ hull. His mind all but goes white as cum spurts over Buggy’s hand and the ground, his muscles tight as the pleasure consumes him.

Shanks slumps against the wall, breathing heavily as Buggy withdraws his hands and connects them to their original spots on his wrists. The redhead slides down the wall, knees too weak to hold him up as he smiles dazedly up at Buggy. “Thank you,” he croons, too sweet in his afterglow as he watches the clown grab a rag from the nearby bathroom counter, wetting it in the sink before tossing it to Shanks. Even as blissed out as he is, Shanks catches the washcloth and begins to wipe himself down as Buggy tosses his ruined gloves in the sink to be dealt with later.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Buggy grumbles back as he washes his hands. “Clean yourself up, would you? I’m going back out to the party, don’t take too long or people will start to suspect things.” Buggy looks Shanks over, his eyes trailing up his body until they reach his face. When their eyes meet, Shanks offers Buggy a bright grins, all bright teeth and sunshine and solar flares.

Buggy snorts, a crooked smile pulling onto his still perfectly-painted lips as he rolls his eyes. “I’ll try and save you some alcohol, but try not to take more than five minutes. I know how your crew likes to party.”

“Aw, you do care!” Shanks laughs as Buggy flips him off before leaving the room. Even as the door closes, Shanks smiles after his nakama-turned-enemy-turned-hopefully more. He’ll just take a minute to himself, collecting his thoughts before he gets up and, as he always does, sneaks Buggy’s wasted gloves into his pocket and heading back out to the party.


	2. Prompt: Eating Out | Ship: Nojiko/Jewelry Bonney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of this rarepair and knew this would be a great prompt for them.

"Babe, I'm hungry," Bonney whines as she throws herself onto the couch, a pout on her lips as she crosses her arms. Her joggers ride low on her hips, a beanie covering her messy, windswept hair as she leans her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. "Gimme something to eat."

Nojiko scoffs and playfully rolls her eyes as she scrolls through her social media feed. "Bon-Bon, I love you dearly, but you're  _ always _ hungry. We just ate half an hour ago, give it a while." She looks away from her phone and leans over to her girlfriend, pressing a quick peck to her cheek and leaving the slightest sheen of her vanilla bean chapstick on Bonney's skin.

She'd woken up only an hour earlier, three hours after her girlfriend, to go get them some brunch to share as the other woman made her way home from the farmer's market. Bonney had brought the sugary pastries and artificially sweet strawberry milk, Nojiko had brought fresh fruit and kisses sweeter than anything on the table. They'd scarfed down the food before settling in for a lazy weekend on the couch, powdered sugar and honey sticking to their lips with each warm, deep kiss.

_ "Still!" _ Bonney protests, glossy lips still in a childish frown as her hand reaches to Nojiko's leg. Her fingers softly tug at the edges of Nojiko's summery skirt, dipping under the fabric so her fingertips can feel the warmth of Nojiko's warm, farm-strong inner thighs. Feeling her girlfriend's breath hitch and the way Nojiko's thighs twitch under her hands, Bonney grins like a cat who's about to get the cream.

Shifting closer, until her thighs nearly overlap with Nojiko's, Bonney's fingers push further under the lightweight fabric and her lips ghost over Nojiko's throat. "C'mon, Nojiko," she breathes against warm skin, "Just a little treat? Please?" Her fingers continue to creep upwards, slow but steady as she feels the shift of Nojiko's thigh muscles.

Nojiko bites her lip, clicking the power button on her phone before setting it down on the coffee table. The slide of Bonney's warm fingers sliding up and up and  _ up _ her thighs is more than distracting, the temperature of Nojiko’s already sun-warm skin rising at the way her girlfriend’s hand makes her body hotter. “Bonney,” Nojiko breathes, trying to force a bit more chastisement into her voice, though even she can hear that it doesn’t come across. “Come on, you know that sex just makes you  _ more _ hungry, and we need wait for dinner.”

Bonney moves closer to her girlfriend and lets out a pouty whine as she says, “But I’m hungry  _ now!” _ Sliding herself into Nojiko’s lap, a smirk pulls onto her lips and she cards her fingers through Nojiko’s long curls. (She’s in a competition of growing her hair with her sister, and while Bonney liked Nojiko’s short hair, she can’t deny that tugging on Nojiko’s curls to annoy her is also fun.) She leans in to steal a quick kiss from Nojiko’s soft lips. “Pleeaasseee, Noji?” Bonney croons before grinning and leaning in close, sweet breath brushing over Nojiko’s lips. “I’ll buy you bubble tea and pay for dinner, and we can watch whatever movie you want tonight,” she bribes in a silly-sweet whisper.

Nojiko looks up at Bonney for a moment, regarding her girlfriend for a moment. “I get to choose two movies, and I get to wear your comfy flannel to bed,” she replies, grinning cheekily right back at Bonney as she softly pinches Bonney’s bare hip.

Excited smile growing bright, Bonney exclaims a pleased, “Now that’s a deal I can get behind!” In a quick movement, she steps backwards, moving off of Nojiko’s lap and sinking to her knees in front of her beautiful girlfriend. Nojiko’s cheeks are a lovely shade of pink, her soft lips pulled into an amused smile as she looks down at Bonney. If asked, Bonney would say that she has the prettiest girlfriend in the word, and she knows she’d be damn right. “Alright, babe, spread your pretty legs for me,” Bonney requests, smiling as her hands move to Nojiko’s legs, sliding up them so she can shift the other woman’s skirt further up her legs to expose her upper thighs, just barely leaving her sex covered by the flowy fabric.

Nojiko scoffs, but can’t deny the way that Bonney’s eager words and actions has her body flushing hot as her heart rate increases. “Be patient,” she faux-scolds, but even as she says those words, she lets her legs part even further, welcoming Bonney to sit between them. The feeling of Bonney’s hands on her thighs is making her body warmer, the entire area between her hips warming like a marshmallow in a bonfire, hot and sticky and thick.

“What can I say? You make it hard to wait,” Bonney grins, and her voice has a thick coating of lust that nearly makes Nojiko shiver. Bonney moves closer, sitting on her knees as she bunches the skirt up around Nojiko’s hips, exposing the pastel satin of Nojiko’s underwear. Bonney licks her lips, her excitement growing as Nojiko’s thighs twitch on either side of Bonney’s head. “God, I can’t wait to taste you,” Bonney murmurs as her thumbs sneak under the thin bands of fabric on Nojiko’s hips, rubbing over her sinfully hot skin.

Breathing hitching in her throat, Nojiko leans forward so she can gently snatch Bonney’s hat off her head. At her girlfriend’s curious look, Nojiko grins and pulls the worn but familiar hat onto her own head. “So impatient, aren’t you?” she teases as she reaches down to bury her fingers in Bonney’s messy, wind-tangled hair. Scooting forward on the couch, Nojiko can’t resist a small, shaky exhale as she feels the hands on her hips grab tighter, dragging Nojiko closer until her body is less than a foot away from Bonney’s own. The sheer strength that Bonney possesses never fails to make Nojiko’s heart flutter and her pussy wet. Even now, she can feel slick on her skin, clinging to the smooth fabric of her underwear.

The breathy words make Bonney grin up at Nojiko. “For you? Always.” Bonney leans forward in a quick moment, sinking her teeth into Nojiko’s inner thigh just enough that there should be a mark the next day. The sound of her lover’s gasp drives Bonney on, her fingers hooking onto the band of Nojiko’s underwear as she laps softly at the shallow ring of teeth marks. Peering up at Nojiko from under thick eyelashes, Bonney grins and nips softly at the other thigh. She chuckles when Nojiko huffs and nudges her knee against Bonney’s head.

Now Nojiko is excited, but Bonney is just teasing. “Hey, you said you were hungry.” Nojiko tries to sound firm, but her voice hitches when she feels Bonney’s thumb rub over her clothed pussy, adding just enough pressure to make Nojiko’s back arch. “Hurry up and eat me.” Using her grip on Bonney’s pink hair, she gently tugs the other woman’s face towards her sex, trying to encourage her to pick up the pace.

Bonney laughs as she’s pulled closer, her face less than a breath from Nojiko’s pussy. “I mean, if you insist,” she teases, and before Nojiko can find a chance to retort, Bonney pulls the satin fabric down Nojiko’s strong thighs and leaves them hanging around her ankles. The sight of her girlfriend’s bared sex, glistening with sex and ready for devouring, leaves Bonney’s own pussy warm and wet, but that doesn’t even matter to her in comparison to the lust-dazed expression on Nojiko’s face and the sight of her legs spread and twitching in anticipation. “Shit, you’re so hot, Noji. Thank you for the treat,” Bonney exhales breathlessly before diving in, her hands gripping onto Nojiko’s hips as she presses her lips against Nojiko’s cunt. Her tongue plunges between slick folds, eagerly lapping at the clean, earthy taste of her girlfriend’s cunt.

“A-Ah, fuck,” Nojiko swears, her voice cracking in a high pitch moan as she holds tight to Bonney, fingers scrambling to find purchase on her scalp. “Hah, Bonney, keep going-” she breathes, chest rising and falling as she feels Bonney’s tongue flick against her clit before diving back between her folds, eagerly licking up all the slick that she can. While Bonney may be a messy, over-eager person, it certainly lends her skill in her oral sex skills.

The taste of Nojiko on her tongue makes Bonney’s head dizzy with pleasure, some of Nojiko’s sexual fluids smearing onto Bonney’s cheeks and chin with the pink-haired woman’s messy movements. Nojiko’s hands in her hair, gently tugging and twitching whenever Bonney’s tongue dips into her core before dragging against the sensitive skin of her lips, makes Bonney moan. The sounds of her own moans muffled against Bonney’s sex makes both women’s temptertures rise even further, Nojiko’s thighs closing around Bonney’s head as she tries to drag her girlfriend - and her girlfriend’s magical tongue - closer, deeper, further,  _ more, fuck, give me more, Bonney-! _

The feeling of Bonney’s hands trying to drag Nojiko closer only encourages the blue-haired female to press her hips forward, a desperate action that Bonney finds incredibly hot as she presses her tongue as far into Nojiko’s pussy as she can. Her actions are rewarded with a wordless cry of pleasure as Nojiko’s thighs squeeze tighter around Bonney’s head. More slick continues to be eagerly collected on Bonney’s tongue and chin as Bonney laps it all up, her mouth warm and hot and so fucking  _ wet _ on Nojiko’s sex that Nojiko can’t even think a single coherent sentence. Then Bonney is pushing two fingers into Nojiko’s slick heat and the only words that Nojiko can even think are ‘Fuck, Bonney, fuck me, good, fucking good.’

Clever fingers push in and out of Nojiko at a pace that makes her legs shake and her toes curl as her cunt throbs with all the sensations. They push at her walls, rubbing against that sweet spot inside her that makes her nerves into electric wires and her bones into metal poles that only amplify the electricity's effects. Bonney’s mouth focuses on her clit, her tongue rubbing over it in a way that makes it  _ itch _ with pleasure, the sheer euphoric sensations wracking through her body growing overwhelming like waves at high tide.

“Fuck, fu- _ ck! _ Bonney, more, need more, just- Just- Hah!” Nojiko’s words are jumbled, breathy pleasure-sobs as she feels her climax approaching. Her entire body twitches, spasming as pleasure wraps around her mind and holds her tight in her grip. So good, it all feels so fucking  _ amazing. _ Bonney is fantastic at this, consuming Nojiko as if she’s truly the only thing keeping Bonney from starving, eating her as if Nojiko is the best meal she’s ever had. It’s all Nojiko can do to press her hips against Bonney’s eagerly accepting mouth and beg for her orgasm.

Bonney can feel all of Nojiko’s body tighten as she reaches that wonderful peak of pleasure, and her own excitement is peaking. Rubbing the flat of her tongue against Bonney’s clit, she works a third finger inside Nojiko’s body, working to press at that same spot that makes Nojiko’s legs jerk and her cunt throb. 

Bonney’s persistence and eagerness pays off soon as Nojiko cries out Bonney’s name as she climaxes, the pleasure peaking and her mind going white as her girlfriend works her through her orgasm. The pleasure hits her like a tornado’s winds, catching her completely off guard as she does her best to just  _ survive _ the torrent of sensations she’s experiencing. 

Her breathing nearly comes to a complete halt as her twitching body finally comes down from its high, and she has to make sure she’s still alive as her heart thumbs against her ribs. Once her mind has finally regained itself, Nojiko looks down to find her girlfriend grinning at her, Nojiko’s sexual fluids still glazed onto the lower half of her face. “Mm, that was a great treat,” Bonney says, her cheeky grin as pretty as ever despite her messed up hair. “We should do that again!”

Nojiko rolls her eyes and scoffs lifting her hands away from Bonney’s head so she can gently push at Bonney’s shoulders. “Not a chance, my legs are still shaking.” But it’s on these shaking legs that she manages to stand, using the wall as a brace. “Now a deal’s a deal. You order the bubble tea while I take a shower, and then I get to choose which movie we watch.”

Pouting, Bonney watches her girlfriend make her way to their shared bathroom. “Can we do it again while we watch the movies?” She calls after Nojiko, laughing when her girlfriend stumbles a bit.

“Only if we can watch that horror movie I like,” Nojiko replies before Bonney hears the shower turning on.

“Hell yeah!” Bonney may hate horror movies, but she’s always willing to take up a good deal when she hears one. And for such a delicious treat, she’s not sure there’s any offer she could turn down.


	3. Prompt: Thigh Riding | Ship: Penguin/Killer/Shachi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shachi and Penguin as human-fighting fish fish-man hybrids is my new favorite headcanon.

Killer doesn’t know what he expected from the Kidd Pirates and Heart Pirates deciding to have a party together, but he’d at least expected something more disastrous than  _ this. _ Maybe a fight, maybe the marines showing up, probably several fights, maybe Kidd and Law starting a war, maybe Kidd and Law fucking. Though one of those has already happened, and that night is still far from over, so many of those things could still happen. This, however… This, Killer could have never predicted.

Sitting in the back of the bar, secluded from sight unless someone was looking specifically for them, Killer sits with Trafalgar D. Water Law’s first mate and chef. Penguin and Shachi, respectively. They’re all seated at a booth in the back, sharing a pitcher of strong ale between them. But he’s not just sitting  _ with _ them, they’re sitting  _ together. _

And by  _ together, _ Killer means that he has both men sitting on his lap, one on each thigh. Penguin straddles one thigh, Shachi sits the same way on the other, both men seemingly  _ very _ comfortable with where they are. They’ve both long since discarded their hats to the side, and Shachi’s sunglasses are shifted onto the top of his head, serving as a makeshift headband to pin back his fiery hair so his bright green eyes are free to view. Penguin’s hair, Killer has discovered, is short and black, just barely long enough to shift into silvery eyes when Penguin’s head falls forward in laughter. Pink cheeks from alcohol seem contagious as the two men laugh, finishing each other’s sentences over some story about Shachi’s cooking. Killer isn’t quite sure how they got here, with both attractive men sitted in Killer’s lap, but he can’t say he minds. Not in the slightest.

The story ends with Shachi and Penguin out of breath from laughter, Killer still chuckling along with them. So drunk on celebration and joy and a decent amount of alcohol, their newfound familiarity isn’t awkward in the slightest. Penguin leans his head against Killer’s shoulder, chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath, while Shachi chuckles and reaches for his half-full tankard so he can down its contents.

The laughter that rumbles from deep in Killer's chest dies off in a sudden dip of noise as his hazy, drunken attention focuses into something sharper. His eyes trace the way Shachi throws his head back as he downs the alcohol, his adam's apple moving with each deep swallow, some liquor dripping down his chin and throat, as his other hand hooks onto Killer's upper thigh for balance. His hand is so  _ close- _ Killer tries not to think about it, clearing his throat as he tries to find something to distract him from the way Shachi's shirt - the tank top he wears under his half-off boiler suit - slips down to reveal more warm, freckled skin. 

The distraction Killer receives does him just as much bad - wonderful, sinful, perfect  _ bad _ \- as the sight of Shachi. The feeling of Penguin's breath on his neck, hot-as-burning-coals lips just barely an inch away from Killer's neck, sends a shudder down his spine. Penguin's hands, like Shachi's, stable his entire figure by holding onto the thick chords of muscle in Killer's thighs. The lithe body moves closer to his own, brushing against Killer's own before pressing more firmly, seeking to share their warmth. Killer could scoff if the situation wasn't so hot; Penguin is in the same state of dress as Shachi, heavy suit worn only to cover his legs. He could easily pull his suit over his arms and zip it up, if he wanted to. But he doesn't. Neither does Shachi. Instead, they let only the thin, threadbare tank tops cling to their chests, the thick, humid air of the bar their only other cover.

Though Killer knows that his blood and head are warm and thick with alcohol, he knows that his attraction to the two Heart Pirates is not a result of his buzzed state of mind. He's long since realized the simple attractiveness of both men, long since felt his curiosity pique at a glance of their well-hidden faces and figures, long since taken himself in his hand to the thought of two voices in chorus with his own moans.

Even now, Killer can’t stop his tongue from darting over his own lips as Shachi’s teeth, each sharp as a knife. He wants them to sink into his own skin as Shachi sets a brutal pace as he rides Killer until Killer has no voice left. The way that the ale drips down Shachi’s neck, dampening the neck of his shirt as he sets his tankard back on the table. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Shachi’s eerily luminescent green eyes lock on Killers though the holes of his mask. 

Killer startles; he’s not sure how exactly Shachi’s eyes have found his own with ease, penetrating through the metal shell and into Killer’s own eyes. There’s no doubt - not even a hint of an otherwise suspicion - in Killer’s mind that Shachi’s just caught him staring. The wickedly sharp grin the chef shoots at him only sets Killer’s thoughts in concrete, and he glances away, as if he could take back his own actions.

Directing his eyes down and away from Shachi’s piercing stare, Killer finds himself in the crosshairs of Penguin’s gaze. Blue set into the black of scleras stare back at Killer, the white pupils locking onto the hidden eyes behind the infamous mask. His lips quirk up in a smile, something smaller than Shachi’s grin but just as cunning, as he leans closer to the broader body he’s perching on. His hands still rest on Killer’s thigh, so close it might as well be his hip. The same goes for Shachi’s hand. Killer is all too aware of the splayed placement of fingers through the fabric of his jeans.

The Massacre Soldier’s entire body tenses; how are both Heart Pirates looking right at him - pinning him in place with their eyes - with such accuracy? His mask shouldn’t allow them this advantage over him, should take away the ability for it altogether. And yet, both have their eyes fixed on him, knowing with certainty where Killer’s eyes are, and where they are looking.

“Looking again, hm?” Penguin asks, his voice a physical heat on Killer’s neck. He sits up just enough for his eyes, dark and dangerous as the deepest of the ocean’s depths, to be even with Killer’s. He’s strong, muscles moving under his skin with every slight shift. The feeling of his legs, muscled from both his fighting fish fish-man biology as well as his pirating lifestyle, shifting on either side of Killer’s thigh makes a certain type of heat begin brewing in the blond man’s lower abdomen.

A low chuckle from Shachi catches Killer’s attention, and he finds Shachi leaning back on his elbows, scarred and impressively strong arms the only thing to support his weight besides the leg between his own. “Yep,” he agrees next to Penguin, nodding slowly though his eyes never move from Killer’s. “He seems to be doing a lot of that these days.” 

The words catch Killer’s breath in his throat, and he can feels his cheeks darken under the shadow of his mask as Shachi’s boot teasingly rubs against Killer’s shin while Penguin’s hand slips from the taller pirate’s upper leg to his inner thigh, well and truly between Killer’s legs. He can feel his cock reacting to the sensation of both bodies interacting with his own, and there’s no way he can hide it. Not that the thought even crosses his mind; at the current moment, his brain is too busy with listening to the other pirates’ words.

Penguin nods in agreement with Shachi’s words, still grinning as his thumb brushes over the crotch of Killer’s jeans. “A lot of looking, but even more watching, I’d say.” Penguin lets out a huff of laughter as he feels the way Killer’s leg twitches under him. His breath is tortuously hot on Killer’s nape as he adds, “He’s practically fucking us with his eyes every time he looks at us.” His gaze is still locked on Killer’s, and his smile grows as he feels the bulge in Killer’s pants growing.

Shachi nods, still laughing as his cheeks dye pink and his pupils dilate with arousal. “Even now, he’s looking at us like he wants to fuck us ‘till our bodies give out.” His words hold nothing but truth, and even Killer knows it. But he can’t find it in himself to speak up, choking on the saliva that pools under his tongue at the thought. “But he seems kinda… shy about it, doesn’t he?”

Pausing, Penguin pretends to consider the question before nodding, smile still so perfect on his lips. “He kinda does. That’s pretty cute, actually.” Despite the sweetness of the words, the feeling of his and Shachi’s bodies braced on Killer’s thighs only makes the Massacre Soldier harder. Maybe even  _ because _ of the sweetness of the words, Killer wants to squirm in his seat, to shift his dick so it’s not pressing so much against the rough fabric of his jeans. But he can’t, body so firmly pinned by both other mens’. “Ah well,” Penguin shrugs nonchalantly. “He can keep fucking us with his eyes, I don’t mind. So long as we can grind against his thighs, I’m perfectly happy with it.”

Those words cause Killer’s brain to shut down for a few moments, his cock throbbing harshly at the implications of those words. It’s when Shachi speaks that his brain turns back on.

“Now that sounds like a good idea,” the redhead pipes in, smirking as his eyes meet Penguin’s for just a moment before moving back to Killer’s. “He can fuck us with his and thighs, see if he finally gets over his shyness.” His tongue swipes across his lip slowly, the action purposeful and eye-catching. Just enough so that it catches Killer off guard when Penguin bites at his neck with sharp teeth and grinds his hips down against the thick thigh that presses insistently between his own.

Killer stutters over a groan as Shachi, still reclined on his forearms, makes the same motion, grins at him and mimics Penguin’s motion. The chef’s own head falls back as he repeats the action, his cock growing harder as he adds more pressure to the action. Slow, deep grinds down on Killer’s thigh send heavy waves of pleasure wracking through his body, the pace steady and heavy enough to make Shachi’s head dizzier than alcohol could ever hope to. This act in itself is a wonderful meal, and Shachi is gluttonous for the way Killer’s eyes track their movements and cock grows hard for them. He’s hungry for Killer’s lust, yes, but he plans to savor this meal, tasting it on his tongue when he cums.

Next to him, Penguin’s breathing stutters around a moan, his legs clamping around Killer’s thigh as he rubs his lower body against the wonderful, warm girth. His pace is less slow, more rough, seeking more and more and  _ more. _ He’s greedy, yearning, as his teeth continue to nip at Killer’s neck. He can feel the other first mate’s pulse against his own lips and teeth, can smell and feel his arousal as Penguin’s hands dance around the spot where Killer wants them most. He may be a tricky partner, but a good battle is what he craves most, and if he has to tease Killer into one, he’ll happily jump at the opportunity.

“Why are you both so fucking hot...” Damn him to hell, but Killer could watch them forever, strength and charm woven into their actions by nature. Their sounds, soft and muffled in the bar, sound just as alluring as the ocean’s wave to any pirate. Killer reaches out, putting a hand on both their hips as he presses his leg up, giving them just enough pressure to draw louder moans from both of them. To his delight, it works, though they both work to muffle their moans so they don’t get caught. However, his actions don’t seem to phase them. Instead, Penguin and Shachi only grin wider, sharp teeth flashing like a warning in the bar’s dim lighting.

“Shit, that’s fucking nice,” Shachi murmurs, low and gravelly as he grinds down harder on Killer’s thigh, his spine curving as he lets out a noise between a moan and a growl. “F-Fuck, yeah, that’s… That’s really good.” His words are pants now, heavy and shallow as he watches how Penguin laps at the small amount of blood his sharp teeth earn. He laughs breathlessly; Penguin always loves drawing first blood, and Shachi should know. “If he’s this good with his thighs, I bet he could wreck us with his cock. Bet he’d be good at it, even though he’s shy. Think he’d like to hear us scream while he fucks us, or would he rather make us choke on his big cock? Both, I bet.”

Penguins’s pace only grows more ruthless, rocking himself on Killer’s leg as he chases after the prey that is his high. He doesn’t talk, that’s always been Shachi’s thing.The talking, the imagery, the sensuality; that’s all Shachi, and Penguin loves him for it. But Penguin is all action, straightforward and blunt. Instead of trying his hand at those pretty words that Shachi uses to make Penguin’s body burn with need, he uses actions. He palms at Killer’s erections, groping it messily as he laps at the blossoming mark on Killer’s neck. 

Killer is lost in a sea of euphoria, groaning as he pushes his hips into Penguin’s hand while listening to Shachi’s moaned words. No fantasy he’s had can compare to this, to how both men are different alike and perfect together, and Killer thinks that they could achieve more than perfect if they were with him. He knows he’s supposed to be the one on lookout, making sure no one fights tonight, but…

“Upstairs, now,” Killer growls, using his strength to lift both Heart Pirates to their feet. Both Shachi and Penguin exclaim, about to complain, until Killer puts a hand on both of their shoulders and guides them to the stairs that lead to the inn’s bedrooms. Ducking his head so only the two of them can hear, he growls, “I’m going to fuck you both in every way I can until you’ll be too sensitive to even  _ think _ about grinding against me without whimpering.”

Grinning, both Shachi and Penguin let the taller pirate lead them away from the bar, knowing full well that they’d leave Killer in the same state, if not with more bruises to show for it.


	4. Prompt: Masturbation | Ship: Zoro(/Sanji)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got kinda soft, didn't it?

The crow's nest is a wonderful place to be at two in the morning; quiet, secluded, and far enough from the crew that Zoro can drain his aching balls. There's not much privacy on the Thousand Sunny, and Zoro can hardly find himself alone anywhere on the ship, let alone anywhere with enough security that Zoro can fuck his own hand and pant heated moans into existence. However, tonight, Zoro doesn't have to fuck his hand. 

A bottle of lube, heavy, unused and still unopened, is heavy in Zoro's hand, and the swordsman  _ knows  _ he's going to use all of it. The thick, sticky fluid licks wetly at the insides of the bottle, the sound of it innocently vulgar in a way that makes Zoro's cheeks warm as he smirks lazily. In his other hand is a toy that he bought from a store that he stumbled into by accident, the merchant grinning slyly at him as he pressed it into Zoro's hand, promising that 'it feels just like the real thing.' Then the merchant had promised Zoro that the item was on sale - though Zoro knew it probably wasn’t - and said he wouldn’t find a better price anywhere else for a product of such quality. With a shrug, Zoro had purchased it, more to shut the salesman up than to satisfy his curiosity. At the time, the dark, minimalistic box hadn't given Zoro a clue as to what was inside, but once he'd gotten back to the ship and unwrapped his purchase, it was pretty obvious what it was.

Soft, small, and squishy, the cocksleeve fits perfectly in Zoro’s hand, engulfed by his palm and fingers. Zoro had heard of these before, mainly overheard through the too-thin walls of inns and whispers in the back of taverns, but hadn’t even considered buying one. And yet, here he is, excitement beginning to light up his nerves and his cock stirring in arousal as he eyes the tight tube.

Not willing to wait any longer to quell his desires, Zoro holds the cocksleeve steady between his thighs so he can pour lube onto his hand, smearing it over his fingers. The feeling of the slick, shiny fluid on his fingers only serves to raise the heated excitement in his gut. It's a feeling he hasn't felt in a while- Well, that's not quite true. It's one he feels often, but never gets to indulge in or stoke into a true raging arousal. But that's why he volunteered to take this shift, when everyone else is asleep and he can truly release. And  _ oh, _ he plans on doing so.

Knowing he can be rough with the toy brings a flush of heat through Zoro’s body, and he pours a generous amount of lube into the small, tight hole of the cocksleeve before tossing the bottle aside. Picking up the toy in his hand, Zoro watches as some of the excess liquid tries to dribble out of the toy’s entrance. A smirk on his lips, the swordsman roughly plunges two of his calloused fingers into the masturbator. The lewd sound of the slicked toy squelching around Zoro’s fingers draws a quiet, grunted swear from his tongue. The thin, tight material stretches around his fingers, showing the outline of and squeezing around them. Curling his fingers a bit, Zoro finds that he enjoys the loud, wet noises of the toy around his fingers, shifting them around to hear even more of them. A thought, plain and curious and all-consuming with the need to know, moves to the front of Zoro’s mind;  _ ‘If I used this much lube with the cook, would his body make the same sounds?’ _

The tension that entangles the swordsman and the cook together is anything but subtle or secret, their fights often ending with them leaning in too close, breaths mingled as their eyes dart between the other’s glare and their lips as they growl and snarl. The chemistry between them has been there since the very first day, and with each of their very physical fights, the tension only grows. Somewhere along the way, Zoro’s fantasies had gone from nameless, faceless figures to blond hair, long legs, moaned insults and cigarette smoke passed between kisses.

Even now, it seems, Zoro can’t seem to get the idea of Sanji out of his mind. His mind is locked on the feel of strong thighs, a low, rich voice ringing with fire and heat, and a cigarette perched on cockily smirking lips. Even know, a sex toy in his hand and a night to himself, he can’t help but think of Sanji, of how it could be - how it  _ should _ be. If only both of them could set their arrogant pride down for just a moment and be honest with each other.

But, until then, Zoro has this.

Slowly, Zoro begins pushing his fingers further in, listening to the arousingly wet noises he creates, before pulling back out. The toy grips at him, trying to pull him back in, and Zoro groans at the thought of Sanji’s body pulling him in, grabbing at him and trying to keep him close. He wonders if Sanji would make a little noise when Zoro pulled out, or if he would just tell him to hurry up and  _ fuck me, stupid marimo. _

“Fuckin’ love cook,” Zoro growls, his hard cock throbbing in his pants as his fingers roughly pump in and out of the cocksleeve, drawing out more squelches as he feels the squeeze of the silicone around his fingers. “Bet you’d be tight as hell for me.” The words, low and gravelly, spill involuntarily from Zoro’s lips, but he can’t say he really minds.

In his mind, it’s all too easy to picture Sanji, one strong leg propped up on the ship’s railing, spreading his legs wide as he smirks at Zoro over his shoulder, taunting him with some line about how Zoro needs to make good on his words and fuck Sanji  _ right. _ Zoro can practically hear his moans, feel his body, taste his tongue.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Zoro tears off his haramaki, tossing it to the side without a care of where it lands, before pulling down his pants just enough to pull his cock out. Throbbing, hard, and aching for release, his dick twitches at the contact of his hand wrapping around the base. “Fucking shit-” Zoro swears, the sheer pleasure of finally being able to touch himself making him so much more sensitive. 

Wasting no time, Zoro lines his tip with the toy’s tight entrance. Closing his eyes, he pictures not a toy, but Sanji’s hot, eager body as Zoro thrusts into the toy’s grip. The image in his mind is perfect, so sexy that Zoro’s hips involuntarily buck fully into the toy, filling out the silicone sleeve with ease as Zoro’s head lulls back with a ragged groan. “Fuuuck…”

As he begins a rough pace, fucking in and out of the toy, he pictures all the sights that he craves to see of Sanji. He wants the cook to arch his back for Zoro, wants to see his legs wrap around Zoro’s hips, wants to see Sanji’s neck and shoulders marked with Zoro’s lovemarks. Zoro wants to see Sanji consumed with want, and he wants Sanji to see him in the same way.

The sounds of the toy moving around his cock are vulgar, the noises sloppy, wet, and  _ loud _ in the silence of the dead night. Zoro can’t find it in himself to care. It sounds too good, so good, and Zoro can picture these sounds coming from the Sanji in his mind’s eye. The toy is squeezing around his cock so well, and right now, it doesn’t even  _ matter _ that it’s not as hot or tight or perfect as Sanji’s body would be, because it’s fucking  **enough.** It’s enough that, when paired with the images of Sanji in Zoro’s head, it works.

Zoro’s hips fuck into the cocksleeve at a pace that’s as brutal, as ruthless, as rough as every fight he’s ever had with Sanji. Then his thrusts slow into something slower, but deeper. Would he and Sanji even fuck like they fight? Is that what Zoro wants?

Pausing, Zoro realizes he isn’t sure. While a nice rough fuck is good every once in a while, he wants something…  _ more _ with Sanji. He wants to see him flush, wants to chase his lips after every kiss, wants those familiar nicknames to fall away into their given names as they hold each other close.

Zoro’s moans are low and rough, wrecked as he imagines Sanji with a fond smile on his lips, hips meeting the swordsman’s with every thrust as he moans out Zoro’s name. It’s the idea of Sanji using Zoro’s name, the pace tender and loving as they make love, their bodies already in familiar synchronization. 

The motion of Zoro’s hips stutter at the mental image, his toes curling as he feels the heat in his abdomen suddenly rise. “Sh-Sh _ it, _ Sa-Sanji,” he pants, the feel of the name on his tongue heavenly, almost as good as Sanji’s cooking. “So fucking good, perfect, fuck-”

Zoro’s orgasm - specifically the strength of it - catches him off guard, and his spills his seed inside of the toy as he grits his teeth, trying not to groan too loudly and wake the others up. He fucks into the toy through his climax, his actions sloppy and uneven as he milks himself dry, cum adding to the lube.

As he comes down from his high, Zoro chuckles to himself. What a way to resolve himself to tell Sanji his feelings. Pulling his pants back up, he decides that he’ll clean up the toy and put it away, then tell Sanji his feelings in the morning.


	5. Prompt: Femdom | Ship: Hina/Smoker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Hina refers to herself in the third person regularly, would she refer to herself as 'Mistress' in the third person when she's having sex? I like to think so. Also, sub!Smoker, get on board.

"You look so good on your knees for Hina, Smoker.”

Gloved hands push the sweat-damp white locks out of Smoker’s face before they curl, fisting in his hair so Hina can drag the man’s face to look at hers. His lips are slick with spit and plump from their rough kisses. His rough cheeks are dyed a blood-moon hue, the color drifting onto his neck as if his cheeks are overflowing with red wine. His arms are tied behind his back, his legs kept in place with a spreader bar, his cock straining, painfully hard, from between them. Hina takes pleasure in how truly wrecked the vice admiral is, and how  _ she _ is the one who made him this way.

“Look at Mistress with those pretty eyes, Smoker,” Hina coos, her other hand coming to rest on the side of Smoker’s neck, her thumb brushing over the curve of his adam’s apple. “Let Mistress see how ruined you are.”

As he sits on his knees - perches, moreso, since he’s leaning so far forward that he's struggling to balance, he lets out a small, choked noise at Hina's words. His glazed eyes meet hers, his lips parted as he desperately pants for air. His cock is so hard it aches, but he has no way to touch it, nor does he want to. That’s not what he’s come to beg for today.

“Please,” he rasps, the word a familiar weight on his tongue, “Please, Mistress…” His eyes are locked on her, following the alluring curve of her breasts to the peaks of her pert nipples down her muscled abdomen and finally to the strap on that just from her hips. It’s long, thick, and as  _ perfect _ as his Mistress, and even being this close to it, being close enough that Smoker could lean forward and lick a stripe up the underside of it if he was allowed, has saliva pooling under his tongue. He has to swallow his own spit so it doesn’t leak out of the corners of his lips; he doesn’t want to make a mess and risk upsetting Mistress and losing out on what he so desperately craves.

Hina’s shiny, red-glossed lips pull into a devilish grin as she shifts her hand to cover the front of Smoker’s throat. Her hand is so small in comparison to his, her body in its entirety at least a head shorter than his, but there’s still so much  _ power _ in her touch, and it makes Smoker keen, the sound low and rumbling in his throat. “C’mon, Smoker, you need to be specific on what you want from Mistress. If you want something, you need to use your pretty mouth and pretty voice to tell Mistress.” Hina already knows what Smoker wants - the way his pleading eyes trace every line and curve of her strap on make it quite obvious - but it wouldn’t do to let him think that he wouldn’t have to put in some work to get it.

Swallowing around another wanton noise, Smoker takes in a deep breath as he prepares himself to ask his favor. “Please, Mistress,” he exhales the name like a sacred secret, looking up at Hina as if he were a knight kneeling before his queen. “Would you let me suck your cock?” Smoker nearly chokes on the feeling of need that floods into his mouth with the words; as soon as he says them, his desire increases tenfold. He wants Mistress’ cock in his throat, wants it pressing his tongue down and rubbing against his lips as it roughly buries itself in his throat and cuts off his airway. He wants Mistress to fuck his throat and praise and humiliate him in the same breath. He wants Mistress to dominate him and take pleasure from him.

Pretty, wicked smile growing, Hina’s hand grips tighter to Smoker’s hair so she can drag his face closer until her strap on is pressed against his cheek, so close to his mouth. “Is that what you want,  _ toy? _ Mistress thinks you can do a better job of asking. Mistress said to use your  _ pretty _ words, toy.”

The feeling of Mistress’ cock pressed against his cheek makes Smoker whine. It’s so close to his mouth, and he’s so tempted to tilt his head just a little so he can give it a few soft licks and kisses. But he knows better, he’s a good toy, so he avoids his temptation by keeping his eyes on Hina and watching for the light of approval in her eyes. “Yes, Mistress, I-I can do better,” he agrees with a small nod. He licks his lips, wetting them as he tries to think of the right words to say, the ones that will make Mistress the happiest. “Mistress, will you please let me put your big, thick, pretty cock in my mouth so I can make you feel good? I want to be a good toy and let Mistress’ perfect cock use me.”

Hina chuckles softly at the obvious way Smoker tries to turn his head just enough to rub his face against the silicone toy. She doubts he even knows that he’s doing it, but she’s not about to stop him. He looks so soft and needy, red cheeks and half-lidded eyes and pouty lips as he fondly nuzzles her strap on. “And does Mistress’ toy think he  _ deserves _ to have Mistress fuck his throat like its a tight, virgin pussy that needs breaking in?” Hina asks, eyeing Smoker with a weighted gaze, her dark eyes considering every word that Smoker has said. “Has Mistress’ toy been good for Mistress?”

Smoker’s eyes go wide and he nods quickly, stifling a moan at Hina’s pretty words. (Her words will always be more beautiful than Smoker’s in his opinion.) “Of course, Mistress. I’ve been a good toy. I,” he swallows nervously, blush overflowing onto his neck and chest, “I haven’t touched myself, even when I dreamed of Mistress. I only touched myself when Mistress ordered me to e-edge myself, and I never let myself climax.” He shifts his weight from leg to leg nervously, his now dripping cock bobbing with the action. “I-I’m not sure if I deserve for Mistress to use me, but Mistress deserves someone to make her cock feel good.”

One of Hina’s perfectly sculpted brows lifts as she nods approvingly at Smoker’s words. “And you think you’re the one that should be allowed to touch Mistress’ cock?” she asks, softly rocking her hips to rub the tip of the strap on against Smoker’s cheek, the action drawing a pretty keen from Smoker.

“If Mistress will let me,” Smoker replies, breathy and soft and sweet and pleading.

There’s a moment of silence as Hina pretends to consider Smoker’s words, watching the way he nervously shifts, waiting for his Mistress’ response. “Well, Mistress’ toy has been very good lately. Mistress’ toy can please Mistress’ cock for a while, but you better do it well. Start slow, you know how Mistress likes her cock to be sucked.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress,” Smoker breathes, the words tumbling from his lips quickly, leaves in rough winds as he scoots closer. With Hina’s hands still on him, a shiver runs down his spine as he leans in. Gathering himself, Smoker resolves himself to be a perfect toy for Mistress before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the shaft of the strap on. His eyes flutter shut as he focuses on the feeling of silicone under his lips. His lips linger before he pulls back and presses another slow, heated kiss to the side of Mistress’ cock, kissing up the side of the thick toy as he makes his way towards the tip. Once he reaches the bulbous head, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the tick tip, his eyes flickering open to look Mistress in the eye as his tongue slips from between his lips to swirl around the girth.

Much to Smoker’s pleasure, Hina’s cheeks have taken a pink hue as she leans back in her chair, her muscled legs spread wide as she watches Smoker adoringly tend to her cock. “Keep going, toy. You’re doing very good at pleasuring Mistress’ cock,” Hina praises with a small, reassuring tug on Smoker’s hair

  
Smoker smiles up at Hina, eyes full of admiration and lust as he presses another kiss to the tip of the toy. He’s going to be the perfect toy tonight, tomorrow night, every night, because his Mistress is perfect every day  _ and _ night, and she deserves the best he has to offer her.


	6. Prompt: Marking | Ship: Sir Crocodile/Donquixote Doflamingo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goddammit it ended up bein' soft.

"Hickies and lovebites," Doflamingo remarks with a crocked jester's grin and words like juggling swords, "are nothing more than bruises and scars for the faint-hearted. It surprises me that you would be so interested in a lover who can handle so little, Croc." He leans against the headboard of his bed, relaxed and sated after a couple rounds under the covers with the other Shichibukai.

Crocodile lets the smoke in his lungs pass through his lips and curl into the air, the smoke caressing his skin before dissipating into the air. His cigar is warm on his lips sating him even more than the lovemaking had, making his body warm and his muscles heavy in the most heavenly of ways. He glances over to his lover with a stare that feigns annoyance. "Perhaps I simply enjoy having my own marks on someone's skin. I take it that you have never had the pleasure of seeing any marks on your lover's skin?" He asks, lips pulling into a lazy but confident smirk as he watches Doflamingo's grin turn into a snarl. "Besides those given during a battle, I mean," Crocodile adds, pouring salt water into the wound as his own smile grows and Doflamingo's expression grows bitter.

Doflamingo scoffs as he pushes some wayward hair out of his face. "You say it like there's any difference between the two, besides the fact that only cowards and weaklings can't handle the cut of sword or hook, or the feeling of teeth in their muscles." Crossing his arms, he slouches like a scolded maverick. "What's so nice about some shitty markings anyway, hm? It's not like they do something new, something that hands and weapons can't."

Golden eyes examine Doflamingo's reaction, fascinated by it in a strange way. Taking one last long drag of his cigar, Crocodile stubs it out on the ashtray next to the bed before gracefully sliding himself over to sit in Doflamingo's lap, their thighs pressed together as he seats himself on the taller man's thighs. "Silly bird, it's not that fighting and battling and warring can't leave marks, it's the _intimacy_ of the act." Sliding his hand up to Doflamingo's neck, Crocodile leans in to nip at Doflamingo's earlobe, smiling when he feels a shiver course through the celestial dragon's body. "I can take my time with you, unlike on the battlefield," Crocodile explains in a low whisper, his tongue ghosting over Doflamingo's jaw on certain syllables as he softly noses at the underside of his jaw, encouraging Doflamingo to tilt his head to give Crocodile more room to work. Much to both of their surprise, Doflamingo does so without hesitation, his breathing hitching as Crocodile's heated breath washes over his neck.

"And? What else?" Doflamingo asks, voice hushed by the angle of his head - tilted back and to the side slightly, just enough to expose all of his vulnerable throat to his lover. His hands move to Crocodile's thighs, holding him there with the softness of adoration but the firmness of need in his bones and muscles.

"I can also choose how I mark you, where and with what part of me," Crocodile adds, smirking to himself as his hand slips to Doflamingo's waist, tight enough that both know there with be a hand shaped bruise before long. "Lips, hands, teeth; I choose something greater than a weapon and mark you with it. Each mark will be unique to me, to my lips and hands and teeth. No mark will match mine. You alone will wear my markings and I alone will mark you, and vice versa." With those words, Crocodile softly sinks his teeth into the skin and muscle of Doflamingo's nape, just enough the leave imprints and break the blood vessels but not the skin.

Doflamingo releases a shaky exhale of Crocodile's name, warmth pulsing through his body with the points of origin being where his and Crocodile's bodies meet. "C-Crocodile..." he breathes, the name warm and heavy and sweet on his tongue as his own fingers press into Crocodile's skin enough to leave marks of his own.

Releasing his teeth's sharp hold on Doflamingo's skin, Crocodile pulls back enough to press a warm, gentle, lingering kiss to the reddening skin that draws a contented hum from Doflamingo as Crocodile moves a bit lower to place a soft nip on his throat. "And though, as you said, these marks will not last as long as scars," Crocodile adds to his explinations, sly grin back in place as he looks over his blooming handiwork, "That is perhaps the best part."

Doflamingo's breathing is a bit shallow and fast as he glances down at Crocodile to ask, "'The best part?' How so?"

Chuckling, Crocodile's mouth brushes over Doflamingo's jaw as he answers. "Because once these marks fade, we get to take the time to mark each other up all over again, and possibly add even more than before."

In a sudden movement, Doflamingo switches their positions and buries his head into Crocodile's neck, excitedly nipping, sucking, and kissing at his throat. "Now that's certainly a plan I can agree with. You better get used to your body being my canvas, Croc, because you're going to be my finest piece of art."

Rolling his eyes, Crocodile laughs, a rough but happy noise as he tilts his head back to let Doflamingo work. "Expect the favor to be returned."

Doflamingo grins right back. "I'd be honored."


	7. Prompt: Thigh-Fucking | Ship: Sanji/Eustass Kidd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short, but it's all I got.

Sanji's body rocks forward, the counter's edges cutting into his hips roughly as his hand shakily strokes his cock. His breathing is hitched, laced with whines and hiccups as Kidd fucks the lube-slick clench of the chef's thighs. "S-Stop being so rough, you brute," he pants, but despite his words, his back arches and precum drips from his dick onto the floor below him. 

Growling, Kidd ferociously thrusts his hips forward again, his pelvis crashing against the back of Sanji's thighs hard enough to make the blond's legs ache, bruises are flower buds under his skin that would bloom in the hours after. Both men look forward to seeing the multicolor markings, and even better, adding to them. "Shut up, cook. You get to fuck my chest, I get to fuck your thighs, that's the deal we made. And you left scratchmarks all over me, so I get to bruise you up." Those bruises don't stop there, one of Kidd's hands leaving a handprint-shaped bruise on his hip. His other hand, the prosthetic the redhead has made of metal and skill, is large enough that the bruise that hand creates covers from his thigh to his ribcage, the squeeze of it tight and beautifully painful and enough to make Sanji's breath stutters over each and every moan.

Whimpering as he continues to stroke his cock, precum coating his fingers and aching member as Kidd's thick, veiny cock pushes into the velvety squeeze of the chef's thighs. "Oh, please, you like it just as rough as I do," Kidd growls as the loud sound of skin slapping against precum-and-lube-slick skin. As he hears Sanji keening, Kidd grins, gravely grunts and moans passing through his lips as he speeds up his pace. His orgasm is building rapidly, and he wants to see Sanji's thighs painted with cum. "Fuck, squeeze a bit tighter for me so I can cum on your pretty fuckin' thighs."

With such pretty words, Sanji can't resist. He whimpers as his muscles clench tight around Kidd's cock as his hips, thighs, and ass sting from the force of Kidd's thrusts. "Hu-Hurry up, you damn- Mn!" Sanji's words cut of abruptly as he feels thick, hot spurts of cum cover his inner thighs, coating them as Kidd uses Sanji's body to milk his cock dry. His gravelly voice is low in Sanji's ear, whispering filthy things about how Sanji's thighs were better than any cunt or ass Kidd had ever used, as each rough clash of their bodies rocks through the blond's entire mortal existence. The sheer heat and vulgarity of it makes Sanji work his own dick faster, his strokes unsteady and rough as he pulls himself to his own orgasm, back arching and toes curling as he cums, his own seed spilling down over his fingers and cock, leaking onto his thighs as he furiously works himself through his own climax.

Sanji's legs are trembling, knees shaky as he hold himself up against the counter, catching his breath as Kidd takes a step back to admire his own work. Sanji's thighs, strong and broad and muscled, coated with the shine of sweat, lube and cum. They're beautiful, eye-catchingly lewd in how the deserve to be licked and bitten. A chef and a meal in one. "So, is this what you chefs call a 'glaze?'" Kidd asks, licking his lips even as he teases and jokes.

There's not even enough energy in the cook's body to manage a glare over his shoulder, so he only smirks as he replies, "Only if you intend to taste it," he replies, spreading his legs to show how some off the cum dribbles down his legs, begging to be caught before they venture too far. His eyes meet Kidd's and his smirk grows because he knows that the fun is only starting.

Kidd grins, wild, reckless, dangerous, as he drops to his knees, spreading Sanji's legs with rough hands before groping his ass, kneading it in deep, brutal movements that send shivers down Sanji's spine. "Fair warning, I'm a messy eater." It's less of a warning, more of a promise and a heads-up.

Sanji drops his posture onto his elbows, knowing damn well he won't be able to hold himself up much longer. "That's the best kind there is."


	8. Prompt: Hair-Pulling | Ship: Rayleigh/Shakky

A raspy groan moves up through Rayleigh's chest, rattling his entire body with the force of it. His body is too warm, burning with need as his body trembles under the force of the arousal in his blood. Arms firmly cuffed behind the chair, ankles bound to the chair's legs. His body is pulled taut in an uncomfortable position, back arched as his head is turned up to face the heavens that he's currently pleading to. 

His begging praises are almost soundless, hardly more than breathy rasps as his throat is strained with how far back his head is tilted. "Shakky, please-" he gasps, drool at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at his wife, who leans over him with a cigarette in one hand and the other fisted painfully tight in Rayleigh's hair. Her hold is firm and unrelenting, her fingernails pressed against the skin on Rayleigh's scalp. It hurts, and Rayleigh wouldn't have it any other way. 

Not that he has a choice, of course.

"Ah, ah, ah. You should know better than to get anything from me yet, Rayleigh," Shakky teasingly scolds, giving a yank on Rayleigh's hair that makes him cry out as his head hits the back of the chair enough to rattle his brain. She grins before lifting her cigarette to her lips and taking a long, slow drag. A choked sob escapes Rayleigh's throat; he fucking  **wishes** he could touch Shakky as much as her cigarette is.

As the smoke passes through Shakky’s lips, ash crumbles from the end of the lit cylinder and falls onto Rayleigh’s cheek, where it crashes and tumbles and burns just enough to make him hiss. “Listen to yourself,” Shakky adds, using the sound as evidence. “It’s been so long since we’ve last done this because you’ve been away. You’re out of practice, and we need to improve your stamina and tolerance.”

Between his legs, Rayleigh’s cock - flushed red and on the verge of darker shades, painfully hard, straining and aching with every action and word - twitches with barely restrained excitement. His eyes are locked on his wife’s every graceful, beautiful movement.

Shakky grins to herself as she watches Rayleigh’s eyes follow the way her lips wrap around her cigarette. Taking another draw off her cigarette, smoke fills her lung and she holds it there, letting it warm her from the inside-out. Again, her hand pulls roughly on Rayleigh’s hair, forcing him to tilt his head back as far as he can, his mouth opening in a choked moan.

In a quick movement, Shakky leans down, sealing her lips over her husband’s before releasing the smoke into his lungs. Rayleigh chokes for a moment, the sudden sting in his lungs catching him off guard.  When Shakky tugs on his hair again, sharp and pointed, Rayleigh welcomes the smoke into his lungs, pressing into the kiss. When Shakky pulls back, she grins at the dazed look in Rayleigh’s eyes and his parted lips that leak smoke into the air between them. “Good,” she purrs, giving another firm tug on Rayleigh’s hair, “You’ll be back in top condition soon enough.”


	9. Prompt: Vampire | Ship: Trafalgar D. Water Law/Basil Hawkins

There's no footsteps or breathing to alert Doctor Trafalgar Law that another person has entered his operating room, but he knows that someone is there all the same. More than that, he knows exactly  _ who _ is there with him, and who it is should scare him more than it does, but he knows he’s in no danger.

“Back so soon?” Law calls over his shoulder, a smirk pulling at his lips as he turns to the nearby sink. He rinses the gore off of his gloves, chuckling as he hears a firm step taken towards him. “Relax, mosquito-ya, I’m not wasting anything, the blood was diseased and you couldn’t have eaten it anyway.” 

There’s a disdainful scoff from behind Law. “‘Mosquito?’”

Laughing lowly, Law responds with a humoured, “It fits, doesn’t it?” Once the blood and tissue is rinsed away, washed down the drain and leaving only pink water and the scent of copper in their wake, Law peels the gloves off and throws them into a medical waste bin. He turns back to the sink, rinsing off his hands as he feels the cold draft that had followed the newcomer settle into a normal but still necessarily cool temperature. His visitor must’ve stepped inside and closed the door. Hm. How… odd.

“I have come inside without having to ask for your permission.” The visitor points out what Law himself has just noticed. “You have begun to give me unspoken permission to visit you whenever you please.”

Law hums noncommittally as he shrugs as he dries his hands on the towel nearby. “Perhaps I have. You  _ are _ the least annoying of all my clients.” Setting the rag aside, Law finally turns around to face his guest. “Hello again, Hawkins-ya. Back for more?”

The tall figure that stands in front of Law crosses his arm, red eyes regarding Law as he walks closer to the vampire. “I am,” Hawkins responds, but Law can see the way those eyes glisten with something akin to fury as the vampire steps closer. Law grins at the growing proximity of their bodies growing closer, the curve of his lips sly and wicked. Hawkins’ expression only grows more sour, lips pursing and jaw clenching before he says, voice cool and smooth as ice over a dark, deep lake in winter, “I had not been aware that you have…  _ other clients.” _

Law cocks his eyebrow, smug in his rhetorical curiosity. “Really? Hm. Well, I do.” He shrugs noncommittally. “Vampires are always in need of safe, discreetly-obtained blood, and I’m always in need of money, or an open-ended favor.” Turning on his heel, Law makes his way over to the storage refrigerators where he keeps the bags of donated life fluid. “How much do you need?” he asks as he grabs a full, cold bag of each type of blood, two of F since Law knows that it’s Hawkins’ favorite, and he’s willing to pay extra for it.

Hawkins’ frown deepens into a scowl, his red eyes glowing in anger as Law grabs a small, discreet cooler from the bottom of the fridge, putting an ice pack in the bottom before carefully arranging the blood bags in the small space. “So am I merely a source of favors to you?” Hawkins asks with the harsh acidic taste of anger in every word. “Another vampire who you give cold blood to in exchange for the dirty deeds you need done?” He steps closer to the surgeon, his already blade-sharp fangs extending enough to press into his lips, razors against the soft skin. 

Law smirks to himself as he closes the lid of the cooler, working on fastening the straps. “If it helps,” he calls over his shoulder, even as he feels Hawkins’ body move closer. “You’re my favorite mosquito-ya. I give you all the easy tasks.” 

In the next moment, Hawkins is pressed against Law’s back, his hands firm on the surgeon’s hips as he drags the shorter man’s body against his own. A low hum of approval vibrates through Law’s chest and throat as he reaches behind him, tangling his fingers in Hawkins’ long hair and pressing his palm against his scalp. 

“That does not ease anything,” Hawkins growls. “Get rid of the others. I will fill their places.” His grip on Law’s body is possessive, holding him so close that the surgeon’s ass is pressed against the bulge of Hawkins’ cock.

With a soft sigh, Law presses back against the vampire’s erection. He grinds back on the vampire, smirking at Hawkins over his shoulder. “Oh? Will you now?” he questions with a low purr in his voice, sensual and low, the voice of the night. “And you’ll fulfill my every whim?” Law knows that it’s a steep price that he’s asking for, but he also knows that it’s a high reward for a high risk. 

Hawkins' voice is right next to Law’s ear when he speaks again, his sharp fangs brushing over the shell of Law’s ear with every word. “Name your price, Doctor Law, and it shall be yours.” His hands move closer to the front of Law’s pants, fingers teasingly brushing over the growing tent in the tight pants.

Law’s grin only grows as he uses his hand on the back of Hawkins’ skull until the vampire’s mouth is hovering over the warm skin of Law’s throat. “Bite me, dear mosquito,” he croons, his free hand moving to cover one of Hawkins and guiding it to fully grope Law’s cock through his pants. He grinds into Hawkins’ hand as he tilts his head to the side, exposing his throat to the vampire. 

The sight of the exposed skin and the feeling of Law pressing his hardened dick into his rough grasp is all the encouragement Hawkins requires. He moves forward, sinking his fangs deep into Law’s neck and letting the bittersweet liquid gush into his mouth. He drinks it down by the mouthful, savoring its flavor on it’s tongue with a growled moan.

Law’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth falling open in a soundless noise of pleasure as Hawkins’ fangs, coated in a powerful aphrodisiac, send euphoria rushing through his veins. It’s obvious that Hawkins is using more than usual, pumping it into Law’s bloodstream and encouraging his pleasure to build faster and faster. “Nh, fuck, Hawkins,” he breathes, back arching as he both tries to grind back against Hawkins while also trying to press into his hand. “Keep drinking until I cum.”

Grinning, Hawkins takes a deep swallow of Law’s delicious blood, pumping more of the bliss-inducing aphrodisiac into the surgeon’s blood before pulling back. He laps at the liquid on Law’s neck, licking it off of his own lips before answering, “As you wish,” and diving back in to drink more.


	10. Prompt: Choking | Ship: Kaku/Rob Lucci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: there's a good amount of blood in this one

Lucci sees red as his entire body is slammed back against the wall, sharp fangs and elegantly curved claws snapping and slashing wildly at the arm connected to the hands that wrap around his throat. His body thrashes wildly, mindless and animalistic rage forcing his heart to beat against his rib cage as his growly voice hisses swears and insults and threats to the man who has him pinned by the throat. His low, acidic spitfire of words are cut off abruptly by the harsh squeezing of work-roughened fingers around his neck, his oxygen catching in his throat as he tries to kick out at the other man.

"Calm down, kitty cat," Kaku croons lowly, using all of his strength to keep Lucci against the wall as he tries to make his voice as soothing as possible. "I know yer all excited, but ya need to calm down, pretty cat." It's hard to keep Lucci in place, the older agent's strength much greater than his own, but Kaku knows that for the good of everyone in a good fifteen mile radius, he needs to calm lucci down. He's not sure what sparked this ungodly fit of rage and rancor, but this is certainly not the time for asking questions and finding the origin to this warpath tantrum. Instead, he has to tame the beast that is Lucci's insatiable bloodlust, or risk being mauled in the process.

Painfully sharp claws swipe at Kaku's arms, gouging deep lines into the thick skin and drawing enough blood that red lines drip down Kaku's wrists and forearms before the weight of the droplets carries them to splatter against the ground. It's hard not to recoil in the face of Lucci's strength, but Kaku dampens his reaction into a wince and holds firm in pinning the other agent to the wall. Gritting his teeth, Kaku tightens his hold, knowing that no matter how hard he could ever close his hands around Lucci's throat, he would never be able to close Lucci's windpipe completely. 

Thankfully, that's not what Kaku needs. All he needs right now is for Lucci's throat to close just enough that it's a bit harder to breath, and hopefully, a bit harder to move.

For the first few moments, it's hard to tell if Kaku's actions are having any affect at all. "Hey, listen to me, Lucci," Kaku continues, voice as warm and soft as an assassin's can be while they choke out their team leader. "I need ya to settle down for me, yeah? Yer gettin' a bit outta hand and yer causin' a lotta trouble." Lucci's pulse, a steady and furious pounding of blood against vein against skin, is all too tangible against Kaku's palms. Vicious claws still rake at the smaller agent's arms, their ebony shine coated red by Kaku's blood as more of it splatters onto Kaku's white shirt and freckled skin. Small splotches of the lifeblood even land on Kaku's face, painting his cheeks, lips, and nose.

Blue eyes lock onto gold as Kaku tries to gauge Lucci's current strength and to see if it's fading any. However, Lucci's eyes don't meet Kaku's own. Instead, they're tracing over Kaku's face, moving from furrowed brows to clenched jaw to bloody lips. His sharp, wild swipes of claws slow before halting altogether in favor of wrapping around Kaku's wrists, holding them tight enough to bruise. To Kaku's surprise, Lucci doesn't try pulling the other agent's hands away from his throat. To Kaku's even greater surprise, Lucci presses Kaku's hands even harder against his throat, his eyes moving to lock on Kaku's as his breathing hitches on a choked grunt of pleasure.

Kaku's eyes widen in shock before his lips pull into a devilish grin. "Ah, ya just need some stress relief, hm? Well, I can give ya a good enough fight in the sack." A low growl, something akin to a low purr, rumbles deep in Lucci's chest at Kaku's words. Lucci's breathing is hitched as a wild smirk pulls at his lips and his hips push forward, grinding against Kaku's. The action pulls a soft moan from Kaku before he chuckles. "Alright, kitten, get ready for me to leave you breathless."


	11. Prompt: Dirty Talk | Ship: Eustass Kid/Killer/X Drake/Basil Hawkins/Scratchmen Apoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I definitely did not originally plan on having this many characters, but it was fun to write them all. Also, included more Apookins than I meant to, but I'm not mad with it

“You guys think he could handle all of us?” 

“At once? Probably not, the poor man would get too overstimulated too fast.”

“Ap-papapa! You’re probably right on that, Hawkins!”

“Hm. We could take turns then?”

Drake ‘s cheeks flush bright red as he listens to his roommates’ conversation, talking as if he weren’t right there in the room beside them. Sex certainly is a conversation that was brought up often in their house, but Drake has never had the conversation turned on him. But here he is, perching on the edge of the seat in the middle of the couch, Hawkins lounging elegantly against the arm of the couch and Killer in a relaxed slouch with his legs extended and crossed at the ankle. Kid is relaxed in one of the armchairs, a beer in his hand as he leans back in his chair, and Apoo is in the chair on the other side of the coffee table with his legs thrown over the side of the chair with his head propped up in his palm.

Hawkins seems to consider Killer’s suggestion as he takes a hit off the joint in his hand. The smoke curls from his lips and into the weed-heavy air of the room, the action of it accentuating Hawkins’ sharply attractive features. “That would certainly be the best option, considering how worked up Drake gets at the slightest hint of lewd sights and sounds.” Hawkins eyes catch the way Drake's cheeks flush and his lips, damp with the sheen of alcohol, pull into a smirk. His chest is bare, the tattoos that decorate his thighs and hips temptingly curling up from the hem of his jeans. Drake pretends his fingers don't ache to touch them.

Across from him, Kid laughs, an uproarious sound as some of his beer spills from the glass bottle and onto his shirt. A few stray drops trail down his chin and throat, catching the light as his adam's apple bobs with the sound of his voice. "That's right," his voice rumbles like thunder with eyes flashing like lightning. "He gets so fuckin' shy whenever he sees something slightly dirty. Remember when we were smoking the other week and Killer really wanted to suck Hawkins off but didn't want to move, so they just did it here and Drake wouldn't stop spluttering about how they should stop but he got a hard-on while watching?" Kid's gaze locks on Drake's, grinning wickedly as he finds the taller man looking at him with wide-eyed indignation. "Remember that, Drake? You were so hard I'm surprised you didn't join Apoo and I in jackin' off to it. Looked like you were so hard it hurt. And I can't blame you, the way they look and sound together… I mean damn." Still staring at Drake, the redhead spreads his legs a bit further, his free hand sliding - eye-catchingly slow - over the dark, tight fabric of his shirt to grope himself through his jeans, hips rolling up into the touch. A breath, gravelly and low, passes through his lips as he smirks at the taller man.

The air in Drake's lungs seems heavy, catching in his throat as he watches Kid's hand rub over the area between his legs. Even as his other roommates chuckle, the sounds calm but amused, comfortable and pleased with the entire situation, Drake can’t help but feel embarrassed by the way his cock begins to twitch with interest. Trying to hide his shame and blooming arousal, Drake takes a long swig from his beer, ignoring the way his roommates’ laughter grows louder around him.

Next to Drake, Killer's body shifts as he leans forward to grab another beer from off the coffee table. Due to their proximity, his thigh presses against one of Drake's, and he feels the way Drake twitches at the movement, but doesn't pull away. His lips are pulled into a lazy smile as he works the metal cap off the bottle, his eyes glancing towards Drake from under his bangs. "That was a fun time," he replies, calm and casual as he always is. "And speaking of times Drake's watched, remember when Apoo and Kid were going at it in the garage? They were so rough that everytime Apoo pushed into Kid so hard that the wall shook, and Kid was practically sobbing? Kid came all over the wall and couldn't walk for the rest of the day." Around him, nods of fond remembrance and laughter kicks up at the memory. Killer smirks, a wicked curve of his pretty lips as he adds, "Drake, you were so worked up and hard that I thought you were finally going to ask for some help." He presses his legs against Drake's own, more firm and insistent than the previous time. "And I would've been more than happy to spread my legs for you," he adds in a low whisper before taking a drink from his beer as if he hadn't said anything lewd at all. Drake's cock definitely takes interest in that.

"Ap-papapa! I think we all remember that." On Drake's other side and across from Kid, Apoo grins as Hawkins passes him the joint, his fingers brushing over the back of the blond's hand before he takes it. He winks at Hawkins as he takes a long, slow drag, Hawkins rolling his eyes at Apoo's cheeky flirting before the musician transfers the joint back into his hand. Looking back to Drake, Apoo finds that those cyan eyes were watching every part of his and Hawkins' interaction. 

Glancing back towards Hawkins, Apoo finds that those red eyes have seen everything that Apoo has and he's come to the same idea. Hawkins' smirk is subtle but enticing as he leans forward, tapping his finger against the side of his mouth. Wordlessly, Apoo nods, smiles, and leans forward, taking Hawkins' chin in his hand before sealing their lips together. Slowly, he exhales the smoke into Hawkins' mouth, feeling the way Hawkins takes it into his own lungs, breathing it in. They hold the kiss for a moment longer, Apoo's tongue swiping over Hawkins' lower lip before the pull back. 

Apoo watches as Hawkins holds the smoke in his lungs for a moment before he breathes it out into air. Looking over, it's obvious that Drake is watching Hawkins as well, his own tongue darting across his lips as he watches smoke dance from Hawkins' lips. Apoo chuckles, smirking as he asks, "Wanna try, Drake? Hawkins and I would be happy to show you how to do it." Hawkins takes another drag, smiling to himself as Apoo leans back in his chair, smirking and spreading his legs a bit more. The musician rubs his thighs with his hand as he says, "Come over here and sit on my lap. I'll teach you."

Drake's eyes quickly dart away from them, glancing back down at the coffee table. Kid and Apoo break into uproarious laughter again as Killer and Hawkins simply chuckle.

Kid let's his laughter subside before he takes a long drink from his bottle, the taste of the beer warming his throat and head. Drake watches the way he swallows around the strong liquid, his throat bobbing as stray droplets clung to his lips. Drake wants to lick them off, his cheeks flushing at the thought before he averts his gaze. Kid swallows before setting the bottle back on the table and looking around the room. "But really, who would go first if we're gonna take turns?" He asks, curious but casual aa he nods his head in Drake's direction.

Immediately Drake begins to splutter, unable to find the words to say that any of them, please, any order works, as his cock throbs in his pants, far too interested in everything being said. Looking up, he finds four pairs of devilish looking at him. 

"Well, Drake?" Kid asks, grinning with a devil's evil charm as he gestures to the four men surrounding Drake. "Who do you want to fuck you first?"

Drake can't help the whines that escapes his throat among the words. "All of you, please, wreck me."


	12. Prompt: Tattoos | Ship: Eustass Kid/Trafalgar D. Water Law/Basil Hawkins

If there's one thing Kid loves about watching his lovers fuck each other, it's seeing the way their tattoos look as their bodies move in that sinfully beautiful synchronization. Law's chest heaves as he moans and pants for breath, the dark ink on his tan chest expanding and shrinking with every gasp and outcry of pleasure. His fingers, laced with lettering and tangled in lily petal hair, hold tight to Hawkins' shoulders as a world-shakingly deep thrust has him sobbing.

Hawkins' hips and thighs, marked up with sharp and swirling patterns in black and gold, snap up against Law's ass. The force of the action and the lube coating his cock creates loud, wet noises with his each and every thrust, allowing the sounds to reach over to where Kid sits at the edge of the bed. His elegant lips are pulled into a wicked smirk, something akin to that of a fox with prey, as his hands grope Law's thighs and ass with each time Hawkins lifts Law up and down on his cock. 

Their skin, sticky with sweat and beautiful with arousal, slides against each other as Hawkins' member presses against Law's walls, stretching the smaller pirate wide. Together, their tattoos seem to be moving, leaking onto each other's bodies and caressing them fondly. Law's voice is raspy, worn with his frequent cries of euphoric pleasure, as he mumbles his lovers' names against Hawkins' throat. Hawkins grins like a sly siren as he grunts, thrusting deep enough into Law's insides to make him shiver and whine.

Law's breathing hitches into a hiccup as he mouths messily at the tattoo at the base of Hawkins' throat, kissing and licking and teething at it as his precum drips onto Hawkins' stomach. His hands tremble as he begs, "Make me cum, Hawkins, please, fuck, I-I can't, I need to-"

Glancing over to Kid, Hawkins smirks, his pace never relenting as he asks, "Well, Kid? Should I let him cum?"

Kid grins, feeling his own orgasm approaching as he works his own dick. "Go ahead. I wanna see cum all over those pretty tattoos of yours."


	13. Prompt: Formalwear | Ship: Dracule Mihawk/Benn Beckman

“Hn. I never thought I would see that day where you would dress up for something.”

Benn Beckman glances out of the corner of his eye to find Dracule Mihawk approaching him, impeccably dressed as ever as he slips on the champagne flute in his hand. His eyes, gold turned amber from the amorous coitus shared between moonlight and lantern-light, pierce through the taller man as he closes the door to the balcony behind him. The sharp lines of his black suit and maroon dress shirt draw Benn's eyes to his figure, his formal stance making his lean but muscled figure even more alluring. 

Turning to face the shichibukai, Benn's lips pull into a lazy, casual smile as he lifts his cigarette to his lips and inhales the smoke into his lungs. The feeling of it helps warm him, providing a temporary respite from the crisp, late autumn air, before it's sacrificed to the cool winds. As the blurry haze of smoke is pulled away by the night, Benn leans against the balcony railing and turns his gaze fully to Mihawk. His eyes catch onto the light gold of the drink in the swordsman's hand, and a curious brow lifts. "Never thought I'd see the day where you would choose champagne over red wine."

Mihawk's lips quirk up into a subtle smile as he steps closer to the gunman, moving into his personal space, staying just within arms reach. "Make no mistake, dear Beckman, I've already taken a few bottles of my choosing to my room for myself and a partner to share. I just happened to grab one of these on my way to see you," Mihawk explains, calm as still waters even as his eyes drag over Benn’s body, putting on the most subtle show of raking over the tight fit of the slacks on Benn’s thighs up to the dress shirt with a ruffled neck to the elegant black gloves to the slicked-back hairstyle held by a ribbon at the base of Benn’s neck.

This time, both of Benn’s eyebrows lift in a bit of surprise as his grin pulls even wider. “Oh?” he asks, voice low and cigarette perched between his lips. “‘Partner of your choosing?’ Got anyone in mind?” Given by the grin on his lips, he already knows Mihawk’s response.

The swordsman steps that final step closer, the toes of his boots overlapping with Benn’s as he ghosts his hand down Benn’s chest, humming in approval at the way he stands a bit straighter at Mihawk’s touch. “I have indeed,” he answers, not bothering to specify because he knows that Benn is already of the same mindset as him. Passing his champagne flute into Benn’s hand, he offers him a final sly smile before turning and heading back towards the ballroom. “My room, twenty minutes. Be discreet.”

Benn grins, chuckling and shaking his head before he downs the rest of Mihawk’s drink, holding the delicate glass in his hand as he begins to count the seconds. “Maybe I should dress up more if that’s how he reacts…”


	14. Prompt: Riding | Ship: Charlotte Linlin/Kaido

Kaido's hands, rough and calloused, are bruising in their grip as he tries to fuck up into Linlin's addictive body. Her pace is ruthless, selfish, savage, as she fucks herself on Kaido's throbbing dick, her wet pussy gripping him as if she's trying to pull his orgasm from his very soul. Her moans and pleasured swears are music to his ears, perfectly matching his own grunts and groans as the wet noises of skin-on-skin and cock-in-cunt joins in.

"L-Linlin," he pants, voice gravelly as he tries to match Linlin's pace, but she's moving to roughly and quickly for him to keep up. His entire body is warm-hot, sweat dripping down his neck and back as his toes curl, muscles pushing themselves to their limit trying to satisfy the other pirate's desires. "God, you feel so fuckin' _good,"_ he growls, hands roughly pulling Linlin down onto his dick, thrusting up against the squeeze of her wet, slick walls as he chases both his and Linlin's orgasm, seeking the euphoria that comes with the waves of pleasure that ruin them before remaking them. 

Linlin pants as her hand pushes at Kaido's chest, pinning him down on the bed. "Shut up," she pants between sweet noises of pleasure as she grinds their hips together, her back arching as the large girth stretching her open rubs against the spot in her that makes arousal like melted sugar churn between her legs, her pleasure growing greater and greater with every movement. "Just sh-shut up, I'm trying to fucking cum, dammit!" she growls as she chases her peak, the sweet taste of her climax so close she can nearly taste it.

Kaido's breath catches in his throat, his body twitching as he feels Linlin's pussy begin to spasm and clench around his cock. His hands hold tight enough to leave marks on his lover's hips as he rocks up into her as best he can as Linlin rides out her own orgasm. "Fuck, _fuck,_ " he swears, words gravelly and rough as he feels the slick of lube and Linlin's sexual fluids leak out of her body and onto his own thighs.

Just as he's about to cum, to finally - _finally, after so fucking long of wanting to_ \- cum and fill Linlin with his seed, the woman pushes his hands away from her perfect, round hips and lifts herself off his cock right as he cums. Kaido groans, snarling as his own cum spills down onto his legs and abdomen. Frustrated with his ruined orgasm, Kaido sits up, glaring furiously at the smug and smirking Linlin.

"I thought you wanted to try for a kid?" he pants, the question full of fury as he pushes himself onto his elbows. 

Linlin laughs, standing from the bed as lube and slick fluids drip down her thighs. Kaido's cock twitches in interest at the sight. "And I do," she replies with great amusement and teasing in her voice, "but it's also really fun to ruin your orgasms like that. You always get so mad!" As she walks over to the dresser, grabbing another bottle of lube since the last one was empty, she waggles it at Kaido with a wicked grin. "This time I'll let you cum in me. No more teasing."

Kaido rolls his eyes, but he can't hide his challenging grin. "Is there ever really 'no teasing' with you?"

Linlin laughs again, shaking her head of sex-mussed hair. "Of course not!"


	15. Prompt: Lingerie | Ship: Jewelry Bonney/Vinsmoke Reiju

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm late, but I'm still gonna try and finish this. This chapter is for someone I'm on a discord server with. Hope you enjoy!

Bonney has never really understood the appeal of lingerie. Or, at least, she  _ hadn’t _ understood the appeal of it until now, as she’s getting ready to do a shoot for a lingerie brand with Vinsmoke Reiju.

Vinsmoke Reiju is a famous model, known for her amazing figure and seductive features. She’s undeniably gorgeous, practically ethereal in her beauty, and she is undoubtedly used to this type of photoshoot. Dressed up in a rose-pink lace up corset, sheer stockings, and a delicately frilled thong, she looks every bit the Aphrodite that she has always appeared to be in every magazine, interview, and TV guest appearance. The corset squeezes at her delicate waist while pushing her breasts up and together enticingly, while the stockings and thong show off the curve of her hips and ass, as well as the shape of her long legs. As she perches, elegant and beautiful as a bird on a branch, on the chairs on the side of the set, she seems absolutely at ease in this setting.

For Bonney, on the other hand, this shoot isn’t her usual lot. Typically, Bonney does athletic clothing or streetwear. The closest she’s ever gotten to ‘lingerie’ is overly-supportive sports bras and  _ tight _ -tight biking shorts, or showy crop tops and distressed jeans that show more skin than they hide.

Given all of her experience, Bonney shouldn’t feel this uncomfortable on the set, shouldn’t feel so out of place. However, as she stands on the set, watching the people around her get the cameras ready and add the finishing touches to the set, she can’t bring herself to feel a bit out of her element. The lingerie is fine, the studio is fine, being looked at while in such a state of undress is fine, but she just can’t get used to it.

The theme for the photoshoot is very clearly pink, and Bonney is beginning to suspect that she might’ve been chosen simply for her hair color and the fact she already has a modeling career under her belt. Her own outfit reflects said theme; her breasts are nearly spilling out of the thin, strappy bralette, her legs barely covered by a mini skirt smaller than a belt that laces up on the sides, and pink leather harnesses that hug her curvy figure.

Glancing around the studio once again, Bonney can’t help but find her eyes magnetically drawn to the other model once again. Reiju is gorgeous, her body delicate and smooth, the poster girl of a modelesque figure. As her eyes move up Reiju’s body for what must’ve been the tenth time in as many minutes, she sees Reiju’s breasts bounce softly, and when Bonney’s gaze shifts up to Reiju’s face, she finds blue eyes looking into her own. Pink lips pull into an inviting grin, Reiju cocks an elegant eyebrow as she asks, “See something interesting?”

Bonney pauses for a moment before her own bubblegum pink lips find an easy smirk.  _ “More _ than interesting. How about we-’

“Alright, models on the set!”

Bonney’s words are cut off short as they’re called to the set. She and Reiju share a look before their grins return at full force. “After this?” Bonney asks as both women get up and walk towards the elegantly decorated bed in the middle of the studio. Her fingers subtly sneak to the line of Reiju’s stockings, sneaking underneath the hem before letting it snap against the other model’s thigh. She revels in the soft gasp it earns her, grinning and sticking her tongue out at Reiju.

  
In return, Reiju not-so-discreetly slips her hand under Bonney’s skirt, rubbing her fingers over the sheer fabric covering Bonney’s sex. Bonney has to hold back a moan as a tremble runs through her legs and hips. As she looks up to Reiju, the other model winks at her, grinning as she says, “Sounds  _ wonderful.” _


	16. Prompt: Facial | Ship: Cavendish/Bartolomeo

Cavendish is hiccuping over the moans that are ruthlessly fucked back into his throat by Bartolomeo's cock, and each choked sound he makes only serves to drive the other pirate closer to the edge. Even as rough, calloused hands bury themselves in Cavendish's now messy hair, gripping tight to the back of the blond's head and ramming his cock into Cavendish's mouth, he can't find it in himself to care as Bartolomeo's cock pushes into his throat. Tears run down his cheeks, saliva and precum smeared over his cheeks and dripping down his chin as Cavendish tries his best to keep up with Bartolomeo's hellish pace. He tries to rub his tongue against the deliciously thick veins on the underside of Bartolomeo's dick and swallow around his girth when it's buried deep in Cavendish's throat, but it's not easy to do anything with the deep, quick, messy rhythm Bartolomeo has set. 

Luckily, it seems like Bartolomeo doesn't care about how sloppy the ex-royalty's technique is. If anything, he seems to like it even better than if Cavendish had been more passive and pliant about it.

"Fuck yeah, jus' like that, you look so pretty choking on me," Bartolomeo growls, his voice low in his throat as he watches the way his cock disappears into the slick, swolled pair of perfect lips that hug his cock so well. Cavendish looks truly and positively _fucked,_ his eyes teary and cheeks red as he drools on Bartolomeo's dick. The swordsman's hands hold tight to Bartolomeo's hips, helping to stablize Cavendish while still encouraging the other man's savage thrusts. "Shit, yes, you have such a tight fuckin' throat, pretty boy. So fuckin' _wet,_ too. Look at how much you're drooling for my dick. You're _gaggin'_ for this cock to break your tight little throat." Every choked moan and strangled whimper sends another pulse of heat through Bartolomeo's abdomen, his balls drawing tight as his climax threatens to take ahold of him.

The filthy words Bartolomeo says make Cavendish whine, keening high in his throat before it's choked by the taller pirate's girth. Cavendish's own cock is dripping precum onto the floor, achingly hard and painfully red-purple at the swollen head. Still, he dares not move a hand away from Bartolomeo's thighs for fear of getting lost in the wild pace. Bartolomeo's flavor is heavy on his tongue, musky and intoxicating and Cavendish is _desperate_ to taste his cum. 

However, just as he feels Bartolomeo's pace grow wild, desperate, uneven, and he prepares himself to swallow the thick, generous load of cum that he expects Bartolomeo to fuck into his throat, the other pirate captain pulls his cock free from the wet vice of Cavendish's mouth and cums all over Cavendish's face. Thick spurts of cum coat the blond's face, landing over those pretty swollen lips and over his nose up to his forehead, some of it landing in his sex-mussed hair and even more of it draping over one of his eyes, forcing Cavendish to close it. Sticking his tongue out, Cavendish manages to catch some of the seed on his tongue, letting it gather and pool in his mouth. It's only when he has so much it drips out of his mouth and down his chest that he swallows, a scratchy keen leaving his throat at the heady flavor.

Bartolomeo watches, fascinated and aroused, at the desperate way Cavendish swallows his cum, the rest of it like strings of pearls on his skin. Smirking, the green-haired man leans forward, moving his face closer until it's only a few inches from Cavendish's own as he examines the way his release looks on Cavendish's skin as if the other pirate were a particularly beautiful statue. "Damn, you look really good in my cum," he murmurs lowly, swiping some cum off Cavendish's cheek before pushing two digits roughly into the familiar wet heat of Cavendish's mouth. The swordsman happily accepts the fingers, swirling his tongue around them with a muffled moan. Bartolomeo's breath catches in his throat, eyes attentively watching the way Cavendish's cheeks hollow as he sucks on the broad digits. He releases a low, rumbling groan from deep in his chest before he says, "Alright, lets see if your mouth can clean me off so I can fuck you and give you some pretty cum to wear on your thighs, hm?"


End file.
